Sunset
by Stand Alone Battle A.I
Summary: Something came through, something... that doesn't belong. Can Lezard save Platina, from something he doesn't even understand?


Date: 1998, August 3, 1:53 pm. Adams County, Nebraska

A seven year old little girl, and her father, stands in front of a small 3x2 ft grave in their back yard. Though it had no headstone there was a small stuffed mouse that marked the time and life of Mr. Fluffykins. Appropriate for the situation, the sky was overcast, and cold with a stiff breeze that called for jackets in the autumn weather.

"Where will Mr. Fluffykins go?" she asks, much to the discomfort of her father. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, and tries to think of a way to explain death to a child. "Platina, honey, uhh, Mr. Fluffykins went to… a better place." He said and tried to gauge her reaction. An impossible task as it turns out, for she didn't break her gaze from the rectangular plod of dirt. Like any father, he wondered what could possibly be going through her head. On one hand, he didn't want to lie to the child, little Platina was far too smart for that. He wanted an honest relationship with her. But on the other hand, he feared that this could put her on the path of becoming one of those 'Goth' kids he'd heard about on fox news. Who all go out and get pierced, and eventually turn to prostitutes who service truckers at gas station exits.

That is of course, if the news was to be believed.

"…Well you see honey, you know how mommy is always yelling at him to stop climbing the curtains? Well Mr. Fluffykins is in a place where he can climb all of the curtains he wa-" Alicia's father was interrupted when the little girl giggled and turned to face him. He found himself staring into a soft set of hazel eyes.

"Daddy you're silly!" she said with the exuberance that was only possible with a small child. "Life can't go on forever. Everything has to eventually come to an end, but that just means that it's the beginning of something else."

Once again her father shifted uncomfortably "uh… it does?" Platina nodded.

"Yup, even though Mr. Fluffykins is dead, he gets to help feed the earth and make room for more for more life, like flowers!" she said happily.

Wow… Bill Cosby's stupid book on fatherhood sure as hell didn't cover this. Who the hell even told her this? Platina likes to play with her friend Suzy in the sandbox at the park, but he doubted she told her that. That was entirely too profound for someone who, last week, ate a grasshopper. And if this was something that she learned on Sesame Street then TV time was officially over.

"Sweetie who told you this?" he asked, unable to keep the tone of concern out of his voice.

"Lenneth did" she said innocently. "She's the voice, of the Old God, that lives in my head." Her father stared at her.

Date: 1998 October 21, 10:35 am, Dr. Lang's Child Psychiatric Center, Nebraska

"I'm afraid I have some bad news…" Dr. Lang says. He and Platina's parents sit in a dark room and watch her play with some building blocks, and talk to herself, through a one way mirror, knowing that she cannot hear, nor see them. "Platina seems to demonstrate a classic case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, or what's commonly referred to as a split personality." Her parents look horrified. "What does that mean" her mother asks "is… is she going to be alright?" The doctor pauses for a moment as he thinks of how to best explain this to her parents.

"Nobody really knows what causes it, most think it's hereditary. And at least for now, she doesn't seem to be a danger to herself or anybody else. Basically, some people develop a separate personality to help them deal with the stress and anxiety of everyday life. This seems to be the case with your daughter. I've had a chance to speak with 'Lenneth'" he says using his fingers as air quotes "and she seems to be a much more forceful person than Platina herself. However, Lenneth also seems to very protective of Platina, and she also seems… profound. She speaks with a certain wisdom, which children of her age should not be capable really of." Dr. Lang didn't want to mention that she held one of the most sophisticated views of the world he'd ever seen, even more so than himself. In a moment that was truly surreal a man, with a PHD Psychology, had trouble keeping up with a 7 year old girl.

"Can she be cured?"

"I'm afraid that there isn't a cure for disorders like this. However with the aid of therapy, drugs, and support from family, she can lead a perfectly normal life."

Date: 2004 July 15, 9:59 am, Chelsea Grainger's office, Nebraska Child Services Center.

An overweight woman looks over the file of Platina Valery, with mild disinterest, thinking of the best way to dump the workload off on Edna in the next stall, so she can get back to her copy of Cosmo magazine. Hey, this issue had important stuff in it, like the ten best ways to get back at your ex for cheating on you. Sure, technically some of the advice did borderline on stalking, vandalism, libel and theft, but it did make for a fun read, and far more interesting that this brats file. Under normal occasion this would get filed under 'Get to it when I'm damn well ready' stack, but the kid in question was right in front of her, so it was kind of hard to ignore.

Plus, it didn't help that she found her to be immensely creepy as hell.

Even right now, she stared at her with an almost zombified gaze… "Alright, let's have a look-see… parents killed in a traffic collision… no immediate family-yada-yada-yada…" hey, she isn't paid to shed a tear for every Debbie-down-on-my-luck case that came through here. Years of underpaid, overworked, and complete disregard, for proper applicant screening of employment, had long since flooded the system with apathetic social workers like Chelsea here.

Flipping through the sheets in the manila folder, she stopped at a page that made her raise her eyebrow. "Prescription list? Let's see… antipsychotics? Lithium? Wow honey! I can't even pronounce the names of half of these things." She said with some slight delight, as this was turning out to be at least a slightly interesting case. That at least explained the zombied state she was in. "What the heck do you have?" she flipped through to the back of her file, like she was skipping to the interesting ending of a novel she didn't feel like reading. Platina watched her plump fingers go through her entire summarized life, with a slight feeling of shame for her condition. The drugs, made things… quiet, though a little cloudy, but sometimes she wished that she could make friends like everybody else. Finally she stopped and began reading, her jaw dropped, and the heat of Platina's cheeks began to rise.

"Wow hun, that's like some Charles Manson shit right there. Looks like you're gonna have to go under the 'special needs' section here. So let me see if I can get someone more specialized here…" Alicia watched as the plump woman leaned back, her chair protesting the entire time, and called out to the cubical next to her. "Hey Edna! What are doin right now?" a voice of another woman, this one sounded older than her current case worker called back over the wall. "Sittin here not taking your load, you lazy cow!" with a curse Chelsea dropped back into her seat with a humph.

"Alright kid, looks like you're officially my problem."

Date: 2005; April 18, 4:13 pm, Tim Horton's Coffee shop, Detroit Michigan.

With a wounded pride, a black eye, and no shoes, Lezard Benning walked down 5 mile road, with a stiff upper lip. 'Dad is gonna kill me.' he thought, as he looked down at his sock covered feet. This was the third time they jumped him, and this time they took his shoes. Over the years of living in Detroit, he found himself to be the target of every bully, jock and overall douchebag that ever laid eyes on him.

"at least they didn't break my glasses…" he mumbled to himself. He was, by every definition, a huge nerd. The only real friends he had in highschool were his teachers, and the librarian, where he spent most of his time ducking what he referred to as 'Alpha Male Neanderthals''. He spotted an old white house, with red shutters, and a string of Christmas lights that never came down. Lezard smiled, as now that he had the house in his sights, he saw an old Caprice in the driveway and saw that Vlad was home.

Vladamire Stolis is a 72 year old, foul mouthed Russian, and perhaps one of the only other person, whom he could call a friend. Vlad lived on this street, way before Lezard was born, but from the thick accent he had, there was no way to mistake his origans. He liked coming over to visit him, as he always had fun stories about 'The Motherland' and had all sorts of neat, army surplus stuff. And, on days like today, he would let him clean up before heading home.

Plus, he was surprisingly good at first aid.

But today, he saw something that gave him pause, or more accurately someone. It was a girl, with hair he'd never seen before. It was so bright, and so luminous, that it actually seemed to glow in the sun. She was sitting on Vlad's porch, evidently enraptured by one of his tales.

Vlad used to have a granddaughter named Natalia who would have been about 25 now. She had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and caught a 9mm to the chest during a gangland shooting, a couple of years ago. It was no surprise to see that he was serving her a hot drink, and telling one of his tales of youth. He was known as the 5 mile road, vodka fueled, ornery ass, of the neighborhood. But he had a soft spot for Lezard, maybe because Vlad could relate in that he really didn't fit in to the new age of pop. It also had to do with the fact that he was very lonely. He approached and saw a beautiful smile of the curious girl, and she laughed as Vladimire told his tale with great exuberance. The thick accent, and the way he rolled his R's, only made it more enticing.

"… so there I was, running through woods from _god damn bear_! Wondering when plan went to shit. Maybe is when I shoot him with potato cannon, maybe is when I throw rock, I'm not sure, Vodka is funny like that." Lezard sees her giggle, and decides that the way she scrunches her nose is absolutely adorable.

"What did you do?"

"I did as any self respecting Russian would do, when faced with bear; I brown my pants, drink some more booze, and run like son-of-a-bitch!" She drops her jaw "You still had your bottle with you!" and Vlad shakes a finger at her. "Never underestimate. A good vodka is like Russian rocket fuel, is how we survive most bear attacks in Motherland." She giggles again and shakes her head "So did you outrun it?" she asks.

"Fuck no! Those big sons of bitches run at 60 kilometers per hour! Is like 35 of your American miles. I actually trip on big fucking root, bottle goes flying into the air and boom! Lands right on bear's face! This was my uncles homemade batch, burns like fire just trying to drink it, I can't even imagine how it must feel for bear to get in eyes."

"That's how you got away!" she says.

"Yup, that bear screams like pussy, then runs away with tail between legs, that's what happens when you cant hold your booze in Motherland." She's about to say something else, when she spots Lezard, and gasps. "Are you okay?" she asks. However before he can answer, Vlad approaches and is immediately starting to wipe off the blood from his nose. "Lezard, what have I told you about this! You can't go around, kicking ass of every person that looks at you funny! Come inside, I'll get you cleaned up." Lezard is about to state say that, that wasn't what happened at all, when he see's the old man wink at him. "OH! Where's is my manners? Platina, this is good friend Lezard, Lezard, this is Platina, she move in 2 blocks down." Vlad pushes him towards the young woman.

_Platina. Such a pretty name…_

"H-hello." He says through a dry mouth. He shakes her hand, while secretly cursing it for being so damned clammy. She smiles sweetly at him "Hello"

And thus began the awkward silence, heard around the world… He blinked 17 times, and counted 12 breaths, before Vlad stepped in. "Come! Come inside, I have cold meat to put on eye." He turns to Platina "He's good kid, bit too much of a baddass for my taste, but is good kid…." The old Russian directs him into the house.

_Her name is Platina…_ Is the only thought that goes through his head.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the relatively short andor boring prelude, but i kinda had to set this thing up. This idea for a supernatural horror, has been bouncing around in my head for a while. My goal is to make an attempt at something that's a little... darker.**

**I'm gonna try my best, though i cant guarantee that this story won't suck. I'm relatively knew at the whole new to this. So input and suggestions are welcome. **

**Even if it's to tell me i suck.  
><strong>


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